


Misplacement

by withcoffeespoons



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Human GLaDOS, Human Wheatley, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withcoffeespoons/pseuds/withcoffeespoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wheatley gets yelled at for the third time this week, and today is different. Today you follow him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misplacement

You can hear her yelling two offices over. It never takes much. You barely have time to wonder which poor Aperture intern will come out of that office in tears before Wheatley walks out, shoulders slumped, his expression resigned.

“That’s the third time this week,” you hear someone hiss to her neighboring cubicle. Instead of returning to his desk, Wheatley walks through the door to the stairwell. Any other day, you wouldn’t mind having a laugh with Gary in Robotics about how Wheatley must have gotten lost, but today is different.

Today you follow him.

He’s crumpled in on himself on the top step, his hands up under his glasses, rubbing at his eyes. You feel embarrassed for a second—like you walked in on something private.

The door clicks shut behind you, and he doesn’t jump, despite the echoing din. He remains silent, his face in his hands. Sandy blond hair droops across his forehead, and he doesn’t move to fix it.

Not saying a word, you sit down next to Wheatley on the stair. His shoulder bumps against yours as he breathes, the hall is so narrow.

You can feel him take a breath to steel himself, then, “I’m not a moron,” he says morosely.

“I know,” you say. It’s not strictly true; everyone at Aperture knows that Wheatley is clumsy, forgetful, and occasionally inept. But he is genuinely sweet and tries really hard.

Which is more than one can say about most of Aperture’s employees.

And okay, truth be told, you fancy Wheatley.

“She’s like that to everyone, you know. It’s not just you.”

That doesn’t make him feel much better, though. He pulls his glasses off and dangles them from his fingers. Blue eyes wryly turn to yours. “Three times in one week? Consistently?”

You try to consider this, but you can’t even pretend. “Maybe she just likes yelling at you more.”

He laughs dryly at this. “Yeah, maybe.” He sighs. “That’s me: Aperture’s Best Moron.”

“You’re not,” you insist.

“No? You know what I did? This time? I lo—misplaced three-thousand subject files. And they weren’t digital. Paper. Files. Three thousand of them.”

“You know,” you say, beginning to feel irritated, “you are really unpleasant when you’re unhappy.”

You move to get up, and he shoves his glasses back on, nearly tripping over his limbs to stand up. “Wait! Please wait. Look, I’m sorry. I like to stay positive, but sometimes…the point is, you’re kind of the only friend I have here. The only person I can really talk to. Without the yelling.”

“You’re worth it,” you say.

His back straightens suddenly. “Really?”

The surprise in his voice makes your chest hurt a little. It makes you brave.

“You want to go out for a coffee sometime?”

“Oh,” he says, “I’m not really a big coffee drinker. Tea is more my thing—I know, how British. Oh, but coffee wasn’t the point of you asking was it? Oh. Oh.”

You almost laugh at the wideness of his eyes. He looks so confused and surprised. Like no one’s ever—oh. Huh.

“Well, that’s new. Um. Huh. I mean. Are you sure? No, wait, don’t answer that. What I mean to say is, er, yes. Coffee. Or tea. Or, well, I suppose whatever you’re in the mood for.”

“Thai,” you insist. “After work, tonight.”

“Oh. Yes, yes, okay.” A steady flow of words follow, none making much sense, like he’s talking to fill the space.

His eyes are still wide and bright and his lips are twisted up into a broad smile around his words—one you don’t think he knows he’s making.

You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. His ears are pink when you pull away, and for the first time in something like five minutes, he’s speechless.


End file.
